


A Favour Repaid

by xxenjoy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Scent Kink, Top Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23148970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: Royal gatherings were never Geralt's preferred way to spend an evening. He'd rather a quiet corner and a mug of ale than dancing and singing and whatever long ceremony he inevitably had to sit through. But things were just not like that amongst the wealthy and well-to-do. Geralt preferred to be quick and precise, to the point; no wasting time with long, indulgent ceremonies. The only reason he has ever attended is out of obligation, a contract or, in this case, a favour for a friend.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 27
Kudos: 596





	A Favour Repaid

Royal gatherings were never Geralt's preferred way to spend an evening. He'd rather a quiet corner and a mug of ale than dancing and singing and whatever long ceremony he inevitably had to sit through. But things were just not like that amongst the wealthy and well-to-do. Geralt preferred to be quick and precise, to the point; no wasting time with long, indulgent ceremonies. The only reason he has ever attended is out of obligation, a contract or, in this case, a favour for a friend. 

Damn him for becoming so soft. All it took was a pleading look and the promise of _something nice_ in return and Geralt had found himself here, sitting between a chatty countess and the apparent object of her affections. And Jaskier, the whole time, was happy as can be, prancing and performing for the gathered wedding guests. 

Geralt watched every step; a strategy to keep his mind off the mindless conversation being spoken over and around him. He focused instead on Jaskier's hands, the way they held his lute and so carefully picked at the strings, all the while making it seem entirely effortless. Geralt didn't share that kind of finesse and it intrigued him, like any other secret begging to be learned. He wondered briefly what else Jaskier could put do with his hands that required that level of easy precision, but thoughts like those were dangerous and unwelcome in halls like this. 

He wasn't enjoying himself, though he made a promise to Jaskier and so he was stuck, at least until the bard's talents were no longer required. So long as this didn't go as badly as the last time he did Jaskier a favour, he would keep his promise. Although, thinking about it, he had to stop and wonder why he agreed to this in the first place. 

As the night wore on, Geralt's mind wandered. The festivities weren't enough to hold his attention and short of leaving, his only other option was to find a way to amuse himself. Not so simple in a place like this. His clothes were tight, uncomfortably so, and he found himself hoping for some sort of attack - anything that would give him reason to leave without breaking his deal. Because as much as he hated it, he gave his word and he wasn't about to go back on it over boredom. 

He shut his eyes, tried to enjoy himself through the scents and sounds of the party rather than suffering the visual of people with too much coin stuffing themselves. The chattering was overwhelming, but Jaskier's music, his voice rang out over it like a beacon in the dark and Geralt focused on that. It was nice for once to hear a song without several breaks while Jaskier worked out the lyrics. This particular one, he'd never heard all of, only bits and pieces in the dark around campfires. He liked it though and it was a welcome familiarity among the rest of the noise. 

A subtle warmth crept under his skin, one he so far had done his best to keep at bay. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one he preferred not to think too much about, though it had been becoming clearer that only certain situations provoked this feeling. Certain situations and certain people. 

He opened his eyes again, letting the cacophony of sound rush back and engross him. Those thoughts were better left untouched. 

To Geralt's great relief, Jaskier didn't linger once his job was done. He came to Geralt immediately, beaming with pride and smelling of something _delightful_. Geralt turned his attention elsewhere, ignoring the nagging sensation in his gut. Too much ale, he told himself. 

Jaskier trotted alongside him as he made his way back to the inn and their room, jovially recounting his success at the party. Geralt listened intently, offering the odd _hmm_ or nod of his head when appropriate even though he'd been present for the entirety of the event now being described to him. Jaskier, he decided, was in a very good mood. 

Which might explain the scent that followed them back to the inn. Geralt had been happy to leave it behind, assuming it belonged to some nobleman at the party, but it seemed not to be the case. _Jaskier_ his brain offered, but Geralt was not in the mind of thinking too much into things, especially where the bard was concerned. 

The man in question stepped out in front of him and stopped so suddenly Geralt nearly ran him over. 

"Are you even listening?" he asked. "Here I am coming off the greatest performance of my life and you can't even be bothered to listen."

"I was there," Geralt responded. The scent was back, harder to ignore than before and _right there_.

This time, when he tried to push it out of his mind, it was harder, he could pinpoint the various scents that combined into such an intoxicating aroma. Pride, lust, and something very specific like wildflowers and spice. He'd been trying not to think about the latter, but he couldn't deny its familiarity, not while it was right there staring him in the face. 

"Well?" Jaskier demanded and Geralt realized he'd stopped listening again.

"Let's get back to the inn." 

He didn't wait for a response, already uncomfortable from a night of playing at civility and the haunting scent that twisted his stomach. When they returned to the inn, Jaskier disappeared and Geralt took it upon himself to arrange a bath before bed. 

As he traipsed upstairs, he could hear Jaskier below him, recounting the tale of the wedding to whatever pretty face would listen. Geralt rolled his eyes. At the least, it would mean a little peace and quiet for him. 

As he sunk into the hot water, Geralt hummed to himself. His head was foggy, the thought of that scent overwhelming. He closed his eyes again, trying to recall it. The scent, he knew, belonged to Jaskier, but he'd be loath to admit the way the bard made him feel. Even without this new, intoxicating scent, Jaskier just had a way of getting under Geralt's skin like no one else could. And despite his best efforts, a part of him liked it. 

He could still think back on years of solitude, sleeping under the stars every night because people were afraid to house a Witcher, much less the Butcher of Blaviken. Jaskier was the one who changed all that, despite Geralt's initial hesitation and outright refusal to have a traveling partner. 

Now, so many years down the line, Geralt was sitting in a tub in an inn he never bothered to get the name of, trying to convince himself that the bard was _just_ a traveling partner. He slipped lower under the water and shut his eyes. He didn't want to think about things like that right now. 

He tilted his head back, arms spread over the edge of the tub and he let his mind slow. Jaskier was down at the bar, probably flirting his way through the rest of the patrons. And while Geralt had to fight back a bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach just thinking about it, it meant he would have some time alone to himself. It was a pleasure not often enjoyed. 

There were many things he could do alone in the bath, but he was tired, drained after a night of listening to nobles bicker over meaningless things. He didn't have the energy, though that didn't mean he couldn't think about it. About Jaskier and his stupid scent and how all of Geralt's training and discipline couldn't keep him from _wanting_. It was stupid to think that a bard, _this_ bard of all of them, could affect him so drastically, but he did and continued to do so. Grumbling to himself, Geralt rolled his head along the edge of the bath. 

His mind wandered. He thought about Jaskier singing down in the hall, about elegant fingers picking at strings. Jaskier was good with his hands, Geralt was sure of it. He'd heard too many stories of returning lovers - men and women who sung the bard's praises and flirted their way back to bed with him - to think otherwise. It meant something that they kept coming back, not that Geralt thought about it often. 

What he usually thought about was slim, calloused fingers dragging over his own skin, twisting themselves in his hair and pushing him to the height of pleasure. He squeezed his eyes shut then and readjusted himself, feeling his body heat at the thought of it. Damn. Jaskier and his damn hands and his damn scent and- 

The door creaked open behind him and Geralt was suddenly overcome with the scent of Jaskier surrounding him. He didn't know how he didn't smell him earlier, and he kept his eyes shut. His stomach turned, that same familiar flip-flop that he'd been trying to ignore for years. 

Jaskier hummed, amused, and slipped up behind him not speaking as his hands settled on Geralt's shoulders. 

"I was going to give you a massage, but maybe I should go. You seem to be having a good time all on your own."

"Stay," Geralt said, ignoring the comment; Jaskier was teasing, but it didn't stop him from not wanting him to leave. A bad idea, Geralt reminded himself but when Jaskier's fingers pressed into stiff muscle his mind settled and all of the good ideas went out of it. 

"You're very tense for someone who spent his entire night with a mug of ale in his hand," Jaskier commented. 

"Hmm."

"And very talkative too. That's fine, I don't need you to talk."

Geralt turned and quirked an eyebrow at him, but Jaskier just grinned his little grin and continued. He didn't stop talking, but Geralt stopped listening, focusing instead on the firm press of Jaskier's fingers. He wanted to give in completely, to let Jaskier do what he wished with him, but his body was already reacting and he suspected things might not go exactly as he was thinking. 

Practiced fingers slid up to his neck and down over his shoulders and a low groan bubbled up from his chest, escaping as Jaskier's fingers slid further down over his collar bones. It didn't stop Jaskier; if anything, it encouraged him. 

"Oh ho," he said, understanding clear in his voice. "So that's why you're so tense. Tell me, Geralt, what's on your mind?" He didn't give more than a grunt in response, but Jaskier didn't seem to mind. "What have you been thinking about, hm? _Up here, all alone-_ You know," he said thoughtfully, "I was thinking we could go to sleep early tonight, get an early start, but maybe I have a better plan."

"Hmm?"

"Don't you worry about it," Jaskier sing-songed, "I promised you something nice, didn't I?" He did, Geralt thought, but he was beginning to wonder just what something nice meant. 

Jaskier stepped away from the tub and though the water has lost some of its original heat, Geralt was comfortable enough not to be too worried about where he was going. From a short distance, something broke the surface of the water and Geralt lifted an eyebrow in question before the salts sunk low enough to hit his skin. He hummed thoughtfully and Jaskier returned a moment later. 

There was the pop of a cork being pulled and for a moment, Geralt's senses were overwhelmed by the scent of wildflowers before the scent mingled amongst the others, fading. Then Jaskier's hands pressed down on him again, slicks with oils and bolder than before. They slid down his stomach and the water rippled as they dipped into it, drawing it back up over Geralt's dry chest. 

Behind him, seemingly oblivious to Geralt's delicate state, Jaskier started to sing. Geralt didn't know the song, or couldn't focus well enough to recognize it if he did, but he liked it. He liked the soft, lilting sound of Jaskier's voice stronger as he bent lower over Geralt's shoulder.

With each pass, Jaskier pushed lower until his chest was pressed against the back of Geralt's head and Geralt's body ached to press up into that touch and let Jaskier prove how dexterous his hands really were. A spike of lust, warm and spicy, spiked the air and at first, Geralt assumed it was his own, bleeding through where he tried to hold back. But this was different, this was tinged with something _familiar_ , that same scent from earlier.

And then it hit him, that one component that he couldn't figure out. 

_Anticipation_ , he realized and his eyes flashed open. Geralt reached blindly behind him, groping for any bit of loose clothing he could get his hand on. When his fingers found Jaskier's wrist instead, he pulled him around to the front of the tub.

"You planned this," he accused. Jaskier's mouth dropped open and he drew back, his hand flying to his chest in shock. He opened his mouth to speak but Geralt lifted an eyebrow at him, one corner of his mouth quirking just so. Jaskier rolled his eyes relenting, dropping his arms to lean over the bath.

"Okay," he admitted, " _maybe_."

"Maybe," Geralt echoed. "Why?"

Jaskier pushed himself upright again, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Why?" he asked, "why do I tend to your needs and take care of you? Because you don't."

"Hmm."

"And maybe if you weren't so stubborn-" Geralt cut him off, leaning forward and curling his fingers into Jaskier's shirt. 

"You smell-" he growled and Jaskier's eyes widened where they met his own. 

"Like I need a bath?" he offered anxiously, looking quickly down at the water beneath him. The hem of his shirt was hanging dangerously close to the water and by all accounts it appeared Geralt was intent on getting him in the water. 

In reality, he hadn't even quite thought this far. Now he's sitting forward in the bath with Jaskier hanging over the edge of it, his own hand the only thing keeping him from being _in_ the bath with him. 

His skin prickled at the thought, but his mind was otherwise occupied, focused on Jaskier's eyes and the almost hopeful glint in them, to push it aside. The scent, now tinged with something not unlike delight filled his head and Geralt surged forward without a further thought, catching Jaskier's startled mouth in a bruising kiss.

To his surprise, the bard showed little apprehension, and when Geralt pulled back, Jaskier didn't hesitate. Geralt didn't even have time to catch his breath again before Jaskier kissed him, his lips soft and eager against his own. Geralt growled low in his throat and Jaskier all but when limp against him as he sat forward in the tub. 

Behind him, Jaskier shifted awkwardly, kicking off his boots just in time for Geralt's patience to run out. He inhaled deeply, letting Jaskier's scent flood his senses and slid his hands underJaskier's arms, hauling him up over the edge of the tub and into it with a splash. There would be hell to pay when the girls came to clean up after, but Geralt had waited far too long to worry about something as trivial as water on the floor. 

Jaskier fitted himself against Geralt's body, his thighs bracketing him with some difficulty in the confined space. Every time he moved, he sent waves of pleasure rolling through Geralt's body and the Witcher dropped his head back, rolling against the tub. Jaskier was quick to take advantage of the situation, stretching up to mouth at his neck even as Geralt's fingers pressed into his clothes.

He was soaked through up to his chest, but Geralt didn't manage to get further than pushing his doublet back off his shoulders before Jaskier was shrugging out of it and reaching for him again. 

There was a bang on the door and Jaskier's head shot up to look at it, but Geralt pulled him back.

"Ignore it," he breathed and Jaskier didn't need to be told twice, melting back against him and letting Geralt kiss him with dedication. 

Jaskier shifted against him, his arousal prominent as Geralt slid a hand down his back, pressing him closer. The innkeeper was still there, banging on the door, but Geralt wasn't interested in talking or getting out of the bath or anything that didn't have Jaskier in his lap, soft and damp and lovely. 

In the background, there were complaints about water and dripping and then-

" _Witcher_!"

Geralt groaned as he pulled away from Jaskier's lips, rolling his head back along the edge of the tub. His fingers continued, pushing through Jaskier's hair and dragging against his skin as Jaaskier kissed a trail down the side of his neck and along his collar. His hips pressed down against him, moving in time with his kisses and Geralt dug his fingers into Jaskier's hip to hold him steady, an attempt to keep his voice even. 

"Ten minutes," he shouted back at the innkeeper, his voice hoarse nonetheless. 

"You've got five and I'm coming in."

"Fine," he grumbled, pulling Jaskier up to face him.

Jaskier was unaffected by the news, straightening and pressing his hands to Geralt's chest. He leaned forward again, but Geralt turned his head to deflect. "Jas-" he groaned as hot lips found his jaw again. "I don't want to get kicked out- I want a _bed_ tonight." 

Jaskier seemed to gather his meaning and at that, he drew back, a look of intrigue plastered to his face. He climbed out of the tub, dripping all over the floor, his soaked clothes clinging to him in all the right places. He turned his back to Geralt, crossing to the door to try and placate the innkeeper. 

Geralt heard something about a bathing mishap and a fire before rolling his eyes and pushing himself up and out of the tub. He dried himself just enough to pull his clothes back on before sliding up behind Jaskier, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Bed," he rumbled and Jaskier turned in his arms, reaching up to pull Geralt's face to his own. When he kissed him, Geralt's motivation to leave faded quickly, instead letting the bard press him against the wall, tangling his fingers in Geralt's hair. 

Cold seeped through his clothes, but Geralt pressed closer, taking the chance while he had it, lest it be the only time they got to do this. Wherever this night took them, Geralt was sure it would only happen once; he wasn't blind to Jaskier's other affections, nor did he expect him to give them up. He was happy enough just to have him around, most of the time. 

Jaskier's hand slipped down his stomach, creeping dangerously close to his untied trousers and Geralt pressed him back, walking him into the middle of the room. He only had so much patience and the innkeeper would be back soon and likely unimpressed to find them there like that. 

Wet and cold, they quickly retrieved Jaskier's boots and the remainder of Geralt's clothes and stumbled out the door together. When they finally broke apart, Jaskier reached back, slipping his fingers between Geralt's and tugging him along behind. Geralt huffed and followed, pleased enough to let Jaskier have his way with him, whatever that entailed. When they reached the room, Jaskier let go of his hand, turning to face him with a grin. 

He crowded him up against the bedroom door, reaching around to open it and Geralt stumbled back, catching himself just as Jaskier shut the door behind them. As he turned back, Geralt slid a hand over his jaw, pulling Jaskier's face back to his own. He kissed him softly, tugging him along even as Jaskier pushed him back, only stopping when his legs hit the edge of the bed. 

Jaskier slipped his arms around his waist, kissing him once, finally, before pulling away. He curled his fingers around the edge of Geralt's shirt, tugging it maddenly slowly up over his head. Geralt frowned at his leisureliness, but Jaskier just grinned at him, leaning in to kiss him again as he worked on getting the Witcher out of his trousers. Once he had, he pressed against Geralt's chest, encouraging him down onto the bed Geralt sat, looking up at him expectantly. When Jaskier didn't immediately join him, Geralt quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Lie down on your stomach, I think I promised you a massage."

"Hmm." 

Geralt lay back on the bed, rolling over as Jaskier returned to the bed, his hands full of various bottles of oil. He set them down on the bed and took a step back. Geralt shifted to look behind him, watching as Jaskier peeled off his wet clothes and piled them in a heap on the floor. When he caught Geralt watching, he winked and crossed over to the bed.

"Like what you see?" he asked, smug. Geralt didn't get a chance to respond before Jaskier climbed up over him, straddling his thighs and running a hand up his spine to lie him back down again. His skin was cold from his wet clothes, but it felt good against Geralt's, heated with lust. "Relax," he breathed, pressing his fingertips into Geralt's shoulders.

He didn't know how he was supposed to relax when his body burned with desire and Jaskier's cock pressed into him every time he leaned forward. He shut his eyes, trying to focus on Jaskier's hands instead of his cock slipping against his ass, pressing into his skin and sliding frustratingly close to where he really wants him. Geralt grumbled and groaned under him, but Jaskier's hands were incredible seeking out every knot and soothing it, moving slowly down from his shoulders.

The scent of the oil was sharp and floral, mixing with Jaskier's natural scent and the combination was intoxicating, driving Geralt crazy even when Jaskier wasn't touching him. He groaned into the bed, arching his back and Jaskier leaned down, humming against his skin. He was keeping tune with something, but Geralt didn't recognize the song, or maybe his head was too clouded with lust for the memory to get through. 

When Jaskier's fingers slipped down, pressing between his cheeks, Geralt's entire body tensed and subsequently relaxed as warm, slick fingers slid across his hole. The moan that broke through the air was soft and desperate and it took Geralt a moment to realize it came from _him_. Jaskier didn't even give him time to be embarrassed about it before pressing against him again and coaxing another shaky moan. 

"Gods," Jaskier breathed, bending low enough that his lips grazed Geralt's skin when he spoke. "I could write a dozen ballads about the lines in your skin- and a dozen more about the sounds you make when I touch you."

Geralt remained silent, curling his arms around a downy pillow and bringing it to press his face into. Jaskier continued, mumbling soft praise into Geralt's skin as he pressed into him. He was cautious at first, testing the waters, but when Geralt rumbled and pressed his hips back, his wariness faded. 

Jaskier leaned over him again, kissed his way down his spine, whispered into his skin all sorts of things Geralt knew not to be true. He wasn't beautiful, he wasn't good, but Jaskier- Jaskier believed these things about him and more. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, quickly to be replaced as Jaskier pressed into him again. He groaned, shifted his hips and his fingers clenched around the soft cloth of the pillow. 

"Beautiful," Jaskier hummed, so quiet Geralt wasn't sure he was supposed to hear it at all. "Roll over, darling." Jaskier withdrew and Geralt complied, turning onto his back and looking up at Jaskier. 

He was smiling, looking down at him so softly and Geralt had to wonder if he ever stopped smiling. He reached out, slipped a hand around the back of Jaskier's neck and guided him down, kissing him softly. Jaskier moved as he kissed him, shifted Geralt's legs apart and settled himself between them, knees pressed under his thighs. 

Jaskier groped blindly around the bed, happy enough to let Geralt hold him down. When he found what he was looking for, he shifted slightly in Geralt's grip, slid a hand down between the two of them and wrapped his hand around him. Geralt pushed up into the touch, sliding one hand down Jaskier's back to push his hips down against him. Jaskier huffed against his lips, stroking him slowly as his own cock pressed into Geralt's hip. 

He was steady but eager, always tending to Geralt's needs before his own, but Geralt wants to see him, to know what Jaskier is really like behind closed doors where there was no one to perform for. Just once, he got to be the focus of Jaskier's attention. He had spent more time with the bard than anyone else in his life, but this was different. This was so much more than just Jaskier traipsing around after him, flirting incessantly. 

Jaskier frowned down at him. He was thinking too much.

Before Jaskier could do anything, Geralt pushed him up, rolling him onto his back. He climbed over him, pressing Jaskier's arms against the bed as he reached up for him. He dipped down, catching Jaskier's lips in a slow, passionate kiss. 

Geralt lingered longer than intended, letting himself sink a little lower, press himself against Jaskier. He slid his hands down, pressing his palms against Jaskier's and Jaskier surges up, kissing him back hard drawing him in with his enthusiasm. And Geralt let him, let him overwhelm and when Jaskier's legs wound around his hips, he dropped against him, fitting their bodies together. 

When he finally drew back, Geralt's breath caught. As his grip lessened, Jaskier pulled his hands free, reaching up to tangle them in Geralt's hair. His eyes were wide, dark with lust but _bright_ , smiling and a familiar warmth flooded through Geralt's chest. 

This wasn't going to just be one night. Even if he wanted it to be, even if they both decided against it, they were bound to wind up here again because Jaskier did something to him that no one else had succeeded in doing in a very long time; he made him feel wanted, _loved_. 

He slid his arms under Jaskier's shoulders, pulling him close and Jaskier met him halfway, tugging his head down and kissing him roughly. Jaskier smiled against him, and when Geralt pressed against him, rolled his hips slowly, he dropped back to the bed with a gasp. Geralt followed and let himself be pushed back against the bed. 

Jaskier pressed him down, kissing a line down his chest, drawing away. Geralt watched him go and Jaskier caught his gaze, holding it as he moved slowly down, tracing circles in Geralt's skin with his tongue. Geralt groaned and his breath grew ragged as Jaskier's fingers dragged over his hips, his mouth creeping close to his cock.

When his mouth wrapped around him, Geralt's eyes dropped shut, hips rising as he reached for Jaskier.

"Fuck," he breathed and Jaskier hummed proudly around him, sinking further onto him. Geralt pushed off the bed, his eyes dropped shut as Jaskier's tongue wrapped around him, his fingers pressed against his head as he tried not to let himself lose control. 

Jaskier's scent spiked with a heady spice and Geralt dropped one hand to the bed, digging his fingers into the bedding as Jaskier's mouth slid up to the head again. He opened his eyes, risking a glance, and Jaskier looked up to meet him, all dark eyes and tousled hair. He looked incredible like that and the sheer image of it combined with that scent was making it difficult for Geralt not to just haul him up over him. 

" _Fuck, Jask-_ "

Jaskier pulled up, letting Geralt's cock drop back against his stomach and he watched him, running his fingers along the inside of Geralt's thigh. He dipped his head, pressing a soft kiss to Geralt's hip before crawling slowly up him, over him. 

Jaskier slid a hand over his chest, twirling his fingers in the short hairs there. Geralt tilted his head up and Jaskier grinned at him. He dipped down, kissing Geralt's chest and when he reached his mouth again, Geralt could smell sweetness mingling with the spice of his lust, something he didn't quite know what to do with. But Jaskier wasn't concerned. 

He kissed him sweetly, letting Geralt feel the full force of his affection, and when he pressed up close, he pushed Geralt's legs up as he did. Geralt went with him, letting Jaskier do as he pleased, too preoccupied with his touch and his fucking _scent_ to want anything more. As he kissed him, Jaskier sought out the oil again, rocking himself against Geralt's ass. He felt incredible and Geralt growled his impatience, running his fingers through Jaskier's hair as he brought his legs up around Jaskier's hips. 

When he found the bottle, Jaskier slipped a hand down between them, stroking himself slowly as he slicked himself and pressed against Geralt's rim. As he pushed in, he pressed his forehead against Geralt's, groaning out a low _oh fuck_. 

Geralt's hold lessened on him as Jaskier moved inside him, setting him aflame from the inside out. His body burned with Jaskier's touch, ached for it even as the bar gave him what he wanted, thrusting deep and pressing himself against him. He kissed him like he was something precious and Geralt wrapped his arms around him, sliding his fingers up the back of his neck. 

He realized now that he would never see that park of Jaskier that flirted his way through court and charmed every pretty face that came his way. He wasn't unhappy because he knew why now; it was simple, Jaskier was just different when he was with others. He liked to belong to someone, to love them for a few hours or days or weeks, but inevitably those romances faded. And yet, for eleven years, he'd been with Geralt and continued to return to him. 

The realization sat heavily on his heart and Geralt pushed him up enough to look at him. A soft smile crept onto his face as Jaskier grinned down at him and he leaned up to kiss him again. 

He shut his eyes and focused on the body against him, the fingers that pushed through his hair, the lips against his own. Jaskier was indeed talented, but more importantly, he was loving. In their years together, he had always been affectionate, caring, but Geralt could be happy to spend the rest of his life in this bed with Jaskier's hands on him, soothing over the scars and fawning over him. 

They moved together, breathing heavily and Geralt's moans broke the quiet as Jaskier’s thrusts grew quicker, more erratic. His own body responded in kind, pushing off the bed as his pleasure came to a peak. He clutched Jaskier against him as he came, kissed him breathlessly. And when Jaskier tensed against him and pressed his face into Geralt's neck, he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing softly against him. 

They laid like that for some time, chests heaving against each other and tangled together before Jaskier leaned up, kissed him and rolled off to the side. He laid on his back, still catching his breath and turned his head to Geralt, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, a smug smirk spreading across his face. Geralt shut his eyes with a soft smile and shook his head. 

"Thank you for bearing with me tonight," Jaskier breathed, propping himself up to face Geralt. 

"Hmm."

"I know you don't like sitting through feasts and speeches and I do appreciate it."

"It wasn't all bad," Geralt admitted and as he peeked over, Jaskier's eyes shone. 

"That's right," he smirked. "Something got to you tonight. What was it?" 

Geralt shut his eyes again and ignored him. He valued his peace too much to let Jaskier know his singing and playing affected him. No, that was information that didn't need to be shared. 

"No really," Jaskier pressed, "tell me what you were thinking about in the bath? What got you all hot and bothered before I showed up?"

Geralt hummed, laced his fingers between Jaskier's and lifted their hands, considering them before lowering them to his lips and kissing Jaskier's knuckles.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yes, in fact, I would." 

Geralt chuckled softly, rolling onto his side and leaning in to kiss Jaskier, effectively silencing him. "We should clean up before bed."

"Mm," Jaskier hummed. "That may be difficult. I don't think they're going to let you back in the bath."


End file.
